Little known fact: There are three types of people on this entire planet. Those who love electric pianos, those who are in denial of their love for electric pianos, and those who have never heard an electric piano but would totally love them. The title of Supertramp's 1974 album, Crime of the Century, is arguably a reference to their confession of not having enough electric piano on the album.
Supertramp is an exemplary binge band. One day, you're all like, fuck, I could really use some music to clean my apartment and drink white wine to! And that's where Crime of the Century comes in, with a dense overload of orchestral pop production over a bed of coke rock and a spot o' prog that leaves you feeling super British for forty minutes.
A few days pass. You catch yourself listening to it on the way to work. It's playing on your tiny speaker while you shower. Your friends are exposed to it when they come over. It's a problem. You're thinking about back-to-back binging with Steely Dan. But all this shit has got to stop, your apartment is clean. You're not surfing down that mountain of coke anymore in the British countryside, into a spacious recording studio where the battered grand piano guides you through the halls of excess. No, you put the scratchy LP down and crawl back to some retro soul or noisy indie pop. Still, you ponder taking on Nilsson for next month's apartment cleaning, that time when you blast any damn record you want with a Sauvignon Blanc and a vacuum cleaner.
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